


All I Ever Wanted (was to play Strip Quidditch)

by StoriesbyNessie



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Boys Kissing, Crack, Cute, Fluff and Crack, M/M, Not Canon Compliant - Harry Potter and the Half-Blood Prince, POV Ron Weasley, Professor Albus Dumbledore, Quidditch, Ron Weasley-centric, Silly, Teasing, strip Quidditch
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-03-27
Updated: 2020-03-27
Packaged: 2021-03-01 02:02:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,200
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/23343658
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StoriesbyNessie/pseuds/StoriesbyNessie
Summary: After Draco makes the offhand comment that the only time he'd ever want to see Ron naked would be if they were playing Strip Quidditch, Ron makes it his personal mission to make this a thing at Hogwarts. By reaching out to no other than Albus Dumbledore...Set during HBP - not canon compliant.
Relationships: Draco Malfoy/Ron Weasley
Comments: 22
Kudos: 109
Collections: Cards Against Muggles Crack Fest





	All I Ever Wanted (was to play Strip Quidditch)

**Author's Note:**

> A/N: My first ever attempt at writing crack. I hope you all enjoy this silly story and also huge thank you as always to the amazing KoraKunkel for being my beta! <3 
> 
> I also would like to thank the mods at Hermione's Nook for running this wonderful fest and allowing me to play. I couldn't have asked for a better prompt, haha. Also, a special little acknowledgement to R1ver_s0ng, if it wasn't for your own caving I never would have been here. :D

It was a perfect spring day in the middle of April. The Hogwarts grounds were calm and quiet; not a student was in sight. A faint wind blew by, the Great Lake sparkled in the sun and an owl hooted in the distance.

The serene atmosphere was soon interrupted by the Quidditch locker room doors flying open. Two sixteen year old boys, one with red hair and one with light blond, ran out, shouting and cursing. The blond was laughing hysterically while the red-haired was angry and flushed from it.

“Shut up, Malfoy!” The redhead roared, flailing the arm that wasn’t holding on to his broom, wildly in the air.

“Make me!” Malfoy said, grinning maliciously and slowing down as soon as his feet hit soft grass. He then came to a halt, to catch his breath. His heart was beating fast in his chest, his breath coming out in shallow hot puffs.

“I will,” the redhead muttered sullenly, his blue eyes firmly fixed on the ground. How dare the stupid Draco Malfoy make a comment about his broom. It was brand new for fuck’s sake and he _never_ got anything new. How dare he make any comments at all; he’d been taunting Ron all through the important Slytherin vs Gryffindor Quidditch match, shouting things and showing off and… and…

“Mhm, and how will you do _that,_ Weasley?” Draco eyed him with a sly expression. When the redhead didn’t answer, he continued. “Whatever you’re offering, I’m not interested, you know.”

Ron narrowed his eyes. “Interested in what? What are you talking about?” _You prat._

“Your body, Weasley,” Draco drawled, eyes roaming lazily over Ron like he was a piece of meat. “I wouldn’t want to see you naked. I’d go blind. It’ll be like looking at a pig before slaughter, I imagine.”

Ron’s cheeks reddened furiously. He wanted to punch the living daylights out of the little bastard, but he also wanted to maintain some pride. He was sure he would lose all of it if he flew into a fistfight like both their fathers had done when Ron and Draco were twelve. So instead, he lifted his chin up a bit and said, “Oh yeah? Wouldn’t you like to know?” It came out weak and a bit squeaky, and not at all as strong, witty and powerful (not to mention manly) as he had hoped. It was all Draco’s fault. Ron couldn’t fucking think around him.

Draco gave a small snort. “The only time I’d ever want to see you naked is if we were mounted on our brooms playing Strip Quidditch.” His snort then turned into a full-blown laughter. “Which will never happen, of course.”

“Right,” Ron said shortly, focusing his gaze on anything but Draco and how his _not perfect_ light hair shone in the sun. It was unfair Draco Malfoy was so gorgeous and it was unfair Ron had to think he was gorgeous, too. Why did he have to be? He was a mean Slytherin.

_All posh and snake-like and slimy._

_All perfect skin, piercing grey eyes and soft hair…_

Ron was suddenly hit with a very wicked idea. In fact, it was a bloody brilliant. If he could convince Dumbledore - the Headmaster of Hogwarts School for Witchcraft and Wizardry that Strip Quidditch could be a real thing, then Malfoy _really_ would eat up his own words. They’d really have to play too, because Dumbledore’s word was the law- everybody knew that. That meant Malfoy would see him naked then, and Ron would be able to see him in the same state. Not that he wanted to, no, not at all. Ron wasn’t a pervert.

He just wanted to shut Malfoy up.

Ronald Weasley suddenly had an important mission in life. It was far more important than his best mate Harry’s missions ever were, and definitely not as depressing. What’s stopping a Dark Lord from taking over the world compared to inventing Strip Quidditch, eh? Ron would be famous for it!

Besides, who wouldn’t fancy seeing the players naked during a game?

It was with a renewed spring in his steps that Ron continued up the path back to the castle, while Draco, who calmly accompanied him, was sarcastic the whole time.

***

_Dear Dumbledore,_

_I swear, I’ve got this great idea that could really improve the Quidditch games. I hope you’d want to hear me out._

_I reckon we could play so much better if we were all naked now when it’s getting so bloody warm out. Harry would probably fly way faster on his broom, clothes weigh us down anyway, and I wouldn’t have to sweat so much under all the Keeper gear. It’s horrible. Plus, I bet Malfoy wouldn’t look as smug if he played all starkers, either. Please consider this._

_Sincerely, Ronald Weasley_

Ron was rather happy when he got Pig out to send the letter. The tiny owl was more excited than Dobby receiving new socks and seemed to take his job very seriously. The letter weighed him down a bit when he tied it on, but Ron thought it was alright. He’d manage.

Ron opened the window to let the bird out, deciding to help him on his journey by throwing him out like a ball. Hooting loudly, the owl sped through the air, the letter dangling in the wind. Ron winced when Pig almost hit the ground before regaining control over his wings. Bloody bird. He was glad Hermione wasn’t around, the S.P.E.W thing had nearly killed him when she was on about that, he couldn’t handle her lecturing him about how he treated his owl now. Ron also had no fucking clue where the hell Dumbledore was, but Pig wouldn’t need to fly far if he was in his office.

***

“Merlin, Malfoy’s just a prick, isn’t he?” Said Ron a week later to Harry as he watched the Quidditch robes cling to Draco’s body in the most obscene way. Dumbledore hadn’t answered his letter yet, so Ron was hellbent on sending another one. Fuck’s sake, he was getting his way.

“I suppose,” Harry shrugged. They were out on the Quidditch pitch to practice, but the Slytherins had gotten there first - slimy bastards. Ron watched Draco bend over to tie his shoelace and _Merlin’s bloody balls_ , why did he have to have such a perfect arse? Ron couldn’t help but stare.

“Like what you see, Weasley?” Draco shouted to him, slapping his own arse to illustrate the point. Ron blushed, and quickly looked away.

“Too bad you won’t ever see me naked though!” Draco continued loudly, the rest of the Slytherin team snickering.

“What’s he talking about?” Harry asked, turning to Ron with curious emerald eyes behind his spectacles.

“Dunno,” said Ron, glaring in Malfoy’s direction, folding his arms defiantly across his chest. That’s it. Ron was writing Dumbledore again, and make Malfoy eat up his own words. Strip Quidditch was _happening._

***

_Dumbledore,_

_You never answered my letter, but that’s alright. Pig tends to fuck things up, so I’m writing you a new one._

_We need Strip Quidditch at Hogwarts. Badly. Malfoy is such a… Sir, I suppose you know what Malfoy’s like. Such a tease, let me tell you. Good Godric, his arse. His Quidditch robes are so low-cut he might as well not wear ’em. But I suppose you don’t need to know that._

_Anyway, please consider letting us play without clothes._

_Ronald Weasley_

***

_Dumbledore, headmaster, Sir_

_Bloody hell, it’s been three weeks. I wait every day, but no owl from you or anybody. Except Mum sent Ginny a Howler for snogging Dean because I told her Ginny was being irresponsible. Then she sent me one for telling on my sister. Well, I suppose you know, you were sort of there when it happened. Hermione says I’m just jealous because nobody wants to snog me. D’you reckon that’s true?_

_Malfoy messed up my potion yesterday in class and Slughorn didn’t tell him off. I don’t think that’s fair. Harry’s being weird too. Then Malfoy suggested I could suck his dick when I told him to go to hell._

_Is he… serious about that? Do you think I should do that? Do you think he wants to?_

_Anyway, I’m sending Pig again. Although, I’m not sure he actually does his job._

_I’d like it if you could consider the Strip Quidditch. That’s the whole reason I’m writing._

_Ron_

***

“Weasley!”

Draco’s lazy drawl reached Ron’s ears just as he pressed his hand to the silver metallic door handle to the Quidditch locker room. It was Saturday and a sunny day out; Ron had woken up early for a morning fly. He muttered a curse under his breath, not prepared for meeting the Slytherin out here.

“Get lost, Malfoy!” Ron growled, turning around only to see Draco sauntering down the hill, brandishing a letter in his right hand and a wicked grin on his face.

“Oh, I don’t think you’d want that, Weasley.”

Draco didn’t stop walking until he had walked right into Ron’s personal space, pressing him against the wooden wall. He waved the letter teasingly in front of Ron’s eyes. “Been writing Dumbledore, have you? I mean, really… Strip Quidditch?” Draco arched a pale eyebrow. “Idiot.”

Ron’s mouth went completely dry. _How the fuck did he know?_

“H-how the hell did you get that letter?!” Ron burst out, trying to shove Malfoy away, but the blond was surprisingly strong considering he was so short and skinny. _And sweet Merlin’s arse, he had read it!_

“You’ve got a tiny little owl, Weasley, haven’t you?” Asked Draco, a smirk playing in the corners of his mouth. Ron tried to snatch the letter out of Draco’s hand but the annoying little ferret was too fast.

Laughing, Draco suddenly whipped around and started to run. Ron caught up to him but he clutched the letter to his chest and curled up to a ball, making it impossible for Ron to reach the letter. His long arms curled around Draco’s waist in the efforts of grabbing it from him, and before he knew it, they both toppled over in the wet grass. Seizing his chance, Ron straddled Draco and pressed his wrists down on either side of his head.

Ron was both embarrassed and absolutely livid.

“How the hell did you get hold of Pig?!” He demanded, tightening his grip around Draco’s wrists.

“I didn’t you troll, he was lying outside the Great Hall!” Draco shouted, wriggling to try to get out of Ron’s grasp. “You really are desperate, aren’t you, Weasley?”

Ron narrowed his eyes.

“Shut up,” he said decidedly, his grip around Draco’s wrist loosening a little. He was still straddling him, and his blue eyes locked on Draco’s stormy grey, pale lashes framing them. His white-blond hair was tousled and he looked so stupid and gorgeous Ron got angry.

“Make me,” Draco challenged. “But of course, you wouldn’t dare…”

Ron’s heart hammered hard in his chest, and he tried to go over his options. Draco rolled his eyes and muttered something about Ron being a _’giant ginger tosser’._ Somehow he managed to get his hands free to snatch hold of the front of Ron’s robes and hauled him down so their mouths had no choice but to collide with each other. They had no choice but to kiss and kiss and kiss under the bright blue morning sky. It was annoying how Ron’s lips parted so easily for Draco’s but damn did it feel good when Draco’s hands flew up and dug roughly into Ron’s fiery hair. They parted after a few minutes for air, Ron’s own lips stung and Draco’s were wet and swollen.

“What happened to Pig? You said he…” He asked breathlessly, eyes roaming over Draco’s face. _Fuck, he was so… His eyes and mouth and…_

“Oh, he’s dead, Weasley,” Draco said offhandedly as if he was commenting the weather. When Ron’s eyes grew wide in horror, the Slytherin sighed exasperatedly. “Your bird crashed into the door when I opened it - three times actually. It was inevitable.”

“He was always a little loopy,” Ron shrugged. “Reckon I shouldn’t have thrown him like a ball every time I wanted him to deliver a letter. Did Dumbledore answer me by the way? I mean, if Pig had a letter…”

With Ron still on him, Draco sat up and without warning, let his hands slide under Ron’s tatty school shirt to seek out warm flesh. Ron shuddered, his skin prickling with the intense excitement only a sixteen-year-old could have.

“Who cares, Weasley? Let’s go into the locker room and play Strip Quidditch just you and me. Fast, before your precious Potter decides he wants to join in.”

Ron laughed and took Draco’s hand. He let himself be led to the changing rooms, blissfully unaware of the letter in which Dumbledore had written him a response.

_’Mr Weasley, it is time for you and Mr Malfoy to let the sexual tension go and do something about it. You should see the letters he has sent to me about you…_ _I’m also afraid the school board is not agreeing to the Strip Quidditch, I tried._

_Sincerely, A. Dumbledore’_

_Fin_


End file.
